Maybe Swearing Will Help (SWAT Generation 2.0 3)

Just then, my son who was leaning against the wall right next to the two teachers talking, saw me and screamed.

“Daddy!” he cried.

I picked my son up and hefted him up onto one hip.

My little six-year-old was getting fucking huge, and he definitely wasn’t as easy to pick up anymore.

The two women that were talking in low tones turned just as I picked him up, both of them looking at me with horror on their faces.

“I’m sorry, but did I just hear you saying you weren’t bringing our kids out until the entire school had been emptied of children? Because of their behavior?” I asked quietly.

Too quietly.

Ashe would call this my ‘not happy’ voice.

Because when I got pissed or mad or sad, I tended to get quieter and not louder.

It was just something I’d always done.

And these teachers had no clue what kind of hornets’ nest they’d just opened.

“Ummm,” the first teacher said, the one that’d just opened her fat mouth. “I’ll—”

“You’ll take these kids to their parents who are out there waiting for them just like I was…” I paused. “Now for fifteen minutes.”

The woman gathered the kids up by their hands and hurried around me, narrowing her eyes as she did.

I didn’t miss the implications.

Nor did I miss the anger that she tried to hide.

“Is your principal gone for the day?” I asked.

The woman nodded woodenly.

I hefted Chevy up just a little bit higher. “Guess I’ll talk to her tomorrow then.”

The woman swallowed hard.

“I realize that Chevy is a bit much at times,” I said. “But yesterday I walked in on him holding his baby brother as he gave him kisses to calm him down while his mommy took a shower.”

Both women didn’t reply.

“Chevy helps shelter cats that neither my wife nor I can touch,” I continued. “He may be loud. He may be rambunctious. He may be a little more in your face than all the other kids. But that’s just because he has such a big heart. He always wants to be at your side. And excuse the fuck out of him if you don’t like it when he gives you a hug in the middle of class. I’m sorry, but I fucking do.”

“Language, Daddy!”

I nuzzled Chevy’s head and turned on my heels and walked out, not once looking back.

And when I got to the police station to find Ashe in her office and Luke leaning against her desk as they spoke about a case, I still hadn’t calmed down.

Luke grinned and reached for Chevy, giving him a quick kiss on the forehead.

“Uncle Wuke!”

Ashe’s eyes zeroed in on me.

“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly.

I relayed the entire story.

“Downy’s daughter works at the school,” Luke said. “Talk to her. She’ll know who you need to talk to and what you need to say.”

“Oh, I know exactly who I need to talk to,” Ashe growled as she stood up.

She looked pissed as hell, like a warrior queen about to go into battle.

Before she could so much as make it out the door, Hayes was there, startling her back into the room.

“I have a lead on new case!” Hayes shook the pages at my wife. “Oh, and congratulations for graduating.”

Ashe frowned. “Hayes, I graduated six years ago.”

She pointed at the diploma that hung on the wall behind her desk.

“I know.” He shook his head. “I was talking about the re-entry test to come back to work. I’ve heard a lot of people praising you today. So congrats. You were missed.”

“You’re such an asshole.” Ashe punched Hayes in the chest. “Go away.”

Hayes grinned.

Ashe wasn’t well-liked still.

In fact, more often than not everyone disliked her because she really did get to choose her own hours and do what she wanted.

But that was also in her contract as a criminal psychologist.

She didn’t much fit into the hierarchy here at KPD, and only those of the detective division well and truly liked her—besides the SWAT team that was.

“I heard your husband got all up in a certain instructor’s face after your physical test yesterday,” Hayes said.

Ashe’s eyes met mine. “Oh really?”

“Yeah.” Hayes grinned. “I’m fairly sure that blows were exchanged.”

Ashe gasped.

“Daddy, you shouldn’t hit people. That’s not nice. Mommy says so,” Chevy chided me.

I looked my kid dead in the eye and said, “As long as it’s defending Mommy, it’s always okay.”